


a song to be heard in the wind

by badritual



Series: Exchange Fic [50]
Category: Den lille Havfrue | The Little Mermaid - Hans Christian Andersen
Genre: Don't copy to another site, F/M, Gen, Once Upon A Fic 2020, Once Upon a Fic Exchange 2020, POV Outsider, The Creeping Sense That Something Isn't Quite Right and Not Being Able to Put a Finger On Why, Weddings, creeping sense of dread
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24136171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badritual/pseuds/badritual
Summary: Their wedding day had started off like a dream: the salt-tinged air was crisp and brisk, the sea itself was calm and clear as glass, and Alma could swear she heard music wafting on the breeze.
Relationships: Prins | Prince/Prinsesse | Princess (Den lille Havfrue | The Little Mermaid)
Series: Exchange Fic [50]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705675
Comments: 17
Kudos: 17
Collections: Once Upon a Fic 2020





	a song to be heard in the wind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GracefullySeven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracefullySeven/gifts).



> GracefullySeven, I was totally going to do the other story (the one I queried with the mods about) but ended up writing something closer to your original request. I got about 3.5K into the other one before I realized it would have to be a looot longer than I had the time for. I might still post the other one if you're interested!
> 
> Thanks to my friend for looking this over! And thanks to the mods!

Their wedding day had started off like a dream: the salt-tinged air was crisp and brisk, the sea itself was calm and clear as glass, and Alma could swear she heard music wafting on the breeze. It was as if all the creatures of the sea had come together to celebrate her wedding to Prince Erik. She couldn’t have imagined a more special, magical, _perfect_ day.

Why Erik had insisted their wedding take place on the water, Alma wasn’t quite sure. She wasn’t one to ask questions, though. Erik would be king someday and rule over all her eye could see, including the water their magnificent boat now rocked upon. 

Alma supposed it did make sense that Erik would want their wedding to be on the water after all. 

Now, she sat in front of the vanity and studied her reflection in the mirror, as her mother and sister fussed over her hair. Marta plucked overzealously at one of Alma’s stubborn curls and let out a frustrated huff of breath.

“What is it?” Alma asked, meeting her sister’s eyes in the mirror. 

“Your hair is unmanageable.” Marta frowned, her brow creasing. 

“Leave it then,” said Alma, smiling as a thought of Prince Erik flickered into her mind. “Erik likes them. He says when we’re married he’ll use them as a place to lay his head.”

Marta giggled. “Romantic sop,” she teased her sister. “You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger.”

Alma thought of Prince Erik like that, twisted around her pinky finger. So entwined with her that one could not tell them apart. “Oh, no,” Alma said, shaking the pleasing image out of her head. “I think it’s his cousin who has him wrapped around her finger. Not I.”

“Cousin?” Marta questioned, as she snagged an ivory comb from Alma’s vanity.

“She arrived only a few days ago,” said Alma, distantly, reaching up to twist a curl around her finger. “For the wedding.”

Erik’s cousin was from a foreign land with a name Alma couldn’t pronounce. And she was completely mute. Due to a childhood illness, Erik said. 

She was very pretty, with piles of gleaming red hair and sea-foam green eyes. And she danced barefoot, leaping and spinning like a prima ballerina, that red hair of hers whipping behind her like a flag planted in someone else’s soil. 

“What’s this cousin’s name?” Marta asked, as she attempted to brush Alma’s curls with the comb.

“Ondine,” Alma said. “That’s what Erik told me.”

“Ondine,” said Marta, giving up and setting the comb back on the vanity. “That’s a funny name.”

“She’s a rather funny girl,” said Alma, touching her throat.

* * *

The wedding had gone beautifully, not that Alma had doubted it would. After their vows had been exchanged and kisses had been shared, the guests filed off the boat and Alma and Erik had the whole expanse of sea to themselves.

Alma thought she could still hear the faint tinkling of music as she slipped out of her wedding gown and an attendant whisked it away. But when she asked Erik if he could hear the music too, he insisted she must be playing tricks on him for he heard nothing. 

After she’d slipped into a simple dressing gown, Alma wandered to the main deck. The sea was calm and clear, reminding her of the gems in the tiara her mother wore to the wedding. Alma imagined reaching a hand into the water and pulling out a fistful of pearlescent opals.

She leaned against the railing and rested her chin on her arm, as a soft, gentle wind batted at her face like a butterfly’s wings. 

Erik sidled up to her and joined her along the railing. He scanned the expanse of sea before them, his blue eyes distant in the glow of the rapidly dimming sun. Alma studied him, the slope of his nose and curves of his lips, the furrow between his blond brows. 

She wondered why her husband looked so… 

Alma shivered against a sudden dip in temperature. Water splashed at the side of the boat and it misted her skin.

“Here,” said Erik, slipping off his pristine white uniform jacket and draping to over Alma’s shoulders. 

She was surprised to see he was still in his Navy uniform. “Thank you,” she murmured, pressing her cheek against his arm. “It was a lovely day. Wasn’t it?”

“It was perfect,” Erik said, resting a hand lightly over hers where it lay on his arm. Then he moved his hand away from hers. 

Alma looped her arm with Erik’s. “I swear I can still hear the music,” she said, with a laugh. “It almost sounds as if it’s getting louder now.”

Erik stiffened beside her and Alma’s heart skipped a beat in her chest. 

“I don’t hear anything, love,” Erik said, his voice almost _cold_. 

No, Alma thought. Not cold. Distant. 

Alma gazed up at him, wondering what she would find in his eyes if he were to meet hers. “What is it, darling?”

Erik clenched his jaw for a moment. “Nothing, my love,” he said. “It’s nothing.”

Alma rested her cheek back against his arm. She could still feel the tension vibrating beneath his dress shirt. “Maybe we should head in. Celebrate our first night as husband and wife,” she suggested, hoping she might be able to distract him.

“Of course,” Erik said. He stepped away from Alma and reached for her hand, drawing her closer when she locked her fingers with his. “I’m sorry, darling.”

“For what?” Alma asked.

“For…being distant,” he said, after a brief pause. “I was only thinking of my mother. It had always been one of her great dreams to see me wed.”

Alma smiled up at him and stood on the tips of her toes to brush a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “I’m certain she’s very proud of you,” she said. 

Erik tightened his hand around Alma’s and led her below deck.

* * *

Something woke Alma with a jolt. It almost sounded as if something had landed on the boat with a wet thump. 

She gently shook Erik, but he only grumbled and tugged at her hands, pulling her back down against his chest.

“What is it,” he mumbled, sleepily. 

Alma settled back against his chest. “I thought I heard a noise,” she said. “Like something came over the railing and onto the deck.”

“I’m sure it was nothing, darling,” said Erik. “A dream.”

“You must be right,” Alma said, because what else could it be? She settled back down against Erik’s side. “There’s nothing out here but us.”

Erik looped an arm around her shoulders. “Go back to sleep, love. We’ve a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” he said.

Alma knew he was right and she closed her eyes, pressing her face into his broad, strong chest. She felt his heart beating steadily under her cheek and the sound anchored her. 

_Thump._

There it was again. That wet thud. It sounded like something—someone—was dragging itself across the deck. 

But Erik was right. There was nothing out here but them. 

Alma squeezed her eyes shut. She was only hearing things, as she had earlier, with the phantom music. 

It was nothing. Nothing.

The door to their sleeping quarters creaked open, slowly, but Alma refused to look. 

Something scraped across the wood, closer and closer to their bed. 

And then it just stopped.

Alma lay very still, tucked into Erik’s side. She didn’t even dare to breathe. 

And then she heard it. The soft inhale-exhale of breath. But it wasn’t coming from Erik.

There _was_ someone else in the room with them. 

Alma wanted to scream, wanted to leap up from the bed and charge at whomever had dared to enter their sacred space, but she didn’t. 

The figure creeped closer.

They breathed shallowly, frightened little puffs of air close enough to tickle the hairs on the back of Alma’s neck.

Something bright and silvery caught Alma’s eye. It was the blade of a knife. 

She waited, held herself very still, expecting pain to lash through her. The blade hung suspended in the air, shaking slightly, before descending. 

The intruder crawled away from the bed, the blade of the knife scraping against the wooden floor. 

Alma sat up slowly and watched as a mass of shadows slipped through the crack in the door. 

A few minutes later, she heard a loud clap as something plummeted from the boat and into the water below.

* * *

When Alma and Erik emerged from the boat the next morning, they were greeted with foam-tipped waves and the faint chiming of bells.

Alma shaded her eyes with her hand and scanned the horizon, looked as far as her eye could see, but she never could find out where the music was coming from.


End file.
